


Are You Sure That We Are Awake?

by star_named_andy



Series: Shakespeare Does a Funny Thing [1]
Category: The Hobbit (1977), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cute, Drunkenness, F/M, M/M, References to Shakespeare, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:09:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3558995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_named_andy/pseuds/star_named_andy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College sophomore Bard Bowman always fantasized about bumping into the renowned and stunning junior year actor and star of the school's production of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, Thranduil Oropherion. When Bard's fantasy is realized by chance, he ends up babysitting a hot mess, drunken man baby. Talk about a romantic comedy! *ba-dum-tiss!*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You Sure That We Are Awake?

**Author's Note:**

> I jumped at the chance to write this fic because I love A Midsummer Night's Dream. :) This fic is based off of this amazing prompt from elfandbowman on tumblr; I did tweak the idea a little and add some things of my own (you'll see how), but otherwise its the same: 
> 
> College Barduil AU in which Thranduil gets drunk as hell at some party and walks into Bard’s room instead of his own and falls asleep there on a free bed and Bard just doesn’t have the heart to tell him to leave. Bonus points if Thranduil is in a drama club and they were drunk performing Shakespeare just for shits and giggles so he’s dressed as Oberon, king of the fairies, with a flower crown and everything. 
> 
> May or may not be doing a second installment of this depending...? Who knows. Anyway, enjoy these adorable, modern kings ;) And thank you elfandbowman for making this fic (and its title from the play) possible! :D
> 
> (Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, or any of its characters or content. I also make no claims to owning any of William Shakespeare's work.)

Every prospective college student gains the knowledge through rumor that college can do two things to people: it can give them the best years of their lives, or lead to the complete and utter destruction of the human soul. These two extremes sound a little too far-fetched and surreal for some, but it is the cold, hard truth that comes with adulthood. There are many factors that can push a person into either extreme while in college, like living away from home, having a roommate, being surrounded by people you don’t know, having loads of homework every night, and of course party life. If you want to get away from your parents, end up with an awesome roomie, meet a lot of new friends, have inspiring and approachable professors for classes you enjoy, achieve a stable GPA and like the partying lifestyle, your college experience is sure to be a hit. That seemed to be the belief of many incomers, but Bard Bowman wasn’t so impressed with that fairytale.

From the very beginning of hearing these popular beliefs about college, Bard was fed up with the panic and the daydreaming everyone was caught in. He was determined to make the best of his experience on his own terms. He imagined that he would miss home, but living in a dorm would be manageable. He predicted that he would be perfectly content with a few friends, a decent living mate, and most importantly good grades (with a little bit of extracurricular activities sprinkled in there). And his predictions not only turned out to be right, but also so much better than he expected.

The dorm space was comfortable enough for two. Fortunately, he and his roommate turned out to have quite a bit in common and respected each other’s space and living habits. The dorm utilities also worked remarkably well compared to others; they worked 85% of the time, which wasn’t always true for the rest of the inhabitants in Bard’s building.

Bard’s building, Dale so it was called, was reserved for the freshmen and lower class students who couldn’t afford to stay in the luxurious campus houses and apartments, but Bard had no complaints. Bard managed to collect a fine group of friends by jetting around Dale and offering to fix people’s lights and heating and cooling fixtures and he even ended up joining the maintenance staff which brought in enough pay to get him by. He never spent his hard earned money in excess – he needed to save desperately to pay off all the loans he had to take out to cover tuition. The few scholarships he’d been awarded in high school hadn’t been enough.

He didn’t only make friends by being a good looking, charming handy man, but also through his classes and extracurriculars. He signed up for the soccer team, archery club, and volunteer club, all of which he contributed to greatly whenever he wasn’t working or studying. He was finding he could somehow balance it all, but he was doing all the things he wanted to do which made everything so much easier and definitely more pleasant. His free time was scarce, but at least he could say he did have _some_ free time to himself on occasion. Every phone call with his parents was filled with praise for his achievements, especially is high grades. The only part of the college experience for Bard that warranted Bard’s complaints was the dining hall food; that, and the constant parties.

The parties were the thing that got Bard the most heated. He’d grumble to himself or to whoever was near during the disturbance: “How do they even have time to have parties? Don’t they know that not everyone likes to hear music blaring at all hours of the day? They should be a little more respectful. I have no doubt they have alcohol over there, which is _not allowed on campus grounds_.” Some of his companions indulged in partying once in a while and tried with all their effort to convince Bard to go to just _one_ – most of the parties were held in the rich kid dorms, after all, and they were extravagant and filled with gorgeous people. He would always reply with: “No thanks. I’m going to ( stay here in the dorm, work, the library, or some extracurricular). Have fun and be safe.”

He was always teased for not attending the parties in his first year and now his second year of college, but he would just shrug it off and go about his usual business, until one night he was _forced_ to go to one of those infamous parties.

While he was making his rounds in the Dale building, he got a call saying that there was a big job over in Lorien house which was one of the most striking rich kid dorm buildings; Mirkwood was surely the most beautiful of all of the houses. Bard had seen them all in passing, but had never been in any of them. Apparently there were overhead lights in Lorien house that had “mysteriously” blown out and needed new bulbs and covers. Bard headed over to the maintenance headquarters to pick up the supplies he needed and the key to the Lorien house and then drove over to “richie district” as some called it.

By the looks of it, there was certainly a party going on. Go figure. Every light in the house was on (except the busted ones) and Bard could hear music blasting obnoxiously loud as he approached.

“I should have brought ear plugs.” Bard joked to himself and heaved his bag over his shoulder and held the bulbs and covers tight in his arms. He had to put it all down once he had clambered up the steps and got to the front door to unlock it. As he tried to keep the door propped open with his foot as he reached for his supplies, the door came swinging open easily.

“Do you need a hand?” a soothing voice called.

“Yes, thank you!” Bard huffed and stood upright to collect his things. He vaguely recognized the girl holding the door and knew her by the name of Galadriel. Her platinum hair was made up of voluminous waves that curved around her thin face and hung at her hip and she was almost always wearing something white or pastel colored with frills and lace. She was in a few of his classes and had always seemed to be kind enough, but Bard had no reason to ever strike up a conversation with her. None the less, Bard didn’t mind having a beautiful girl hold the door for him.

“You must be here to fix the lights,” Galadriel said as he clunked through the doorway.

“Yeah. If you show me where the problem is I’ll be glad to fix it. Let me just go grab my ladder.

“Sure, sure.”

When he came back with the ladder, Galadriel offered to at least carry the bulbs and the covers for him. As she guided him through the ornate and crowded corridors, she easily got everyone to move out of the way. A few boys had stopped and asked to carry the supplies for her. She turned all away but one and Bard assumed by the kiss they exchanged that they were together – yes, he was sure of it as soon as he heard someone in passing say his name: Celeborn. Celeborn didn’t say much to Bard; he was very absorbed by his girlfriend and the reasons as to why were clear. It was like Bard was invisible and he didn’t mind being that way in a situation like this.

The music faded as Galadriel led him deeper into the house and to a room that was of course packed with people and it was horribly lit (duh because two of the three ceiling lights were blown). At least now he could hear properly, and what he could hear was very pleasing. Now that he knew what was going on, the lighting was actually perfect. In the center of the room under the only working light stood the king of the woodland realm, the king of the fairies, King Oberon – or more correctly, the junior year actor who played Oberon in the school’s most recent production of William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Thranduil Oropherion.

Bard never thought he would see Thranduil, the most stunning and renowned theater major in the entire school, up this close. Whenever Bard had ever seen him, it was always on stage. Bard always secretly hoped that they would bump into each other in the dining hall or on the street or maybe he’d get called to fix something in his dorm room and he would be there, but those never hopes reached reality.

This encounter was especially weird because Bard was now seeing Thranduil perform up close, still partially in his Oberon dressings. He still donned his lavish, sparkling crown over his long golden hair that cascaded over his shoulders. The crown was appropriately fashioned from green leaves woven together over a base made to look thorn like. Normally, attached to the crown were thin white antlers similar to that of an elk that were covered with gold glitter that matched the glitter that was sprinkled lightly on the leaves and pointed thorn-like spokes of the crown and it was deliberately painted along his strong cheekbones and around his ice blue eyes, as well.

Normally the Oberon look was accompanied by long shimmering green robes, a leaf-woven cape and dark makeup around the eyes, but this was not the case presently. The rest of Thranduil’s wardrobe consisted of tight skinny jeans (which flattered his sculpted ass wonderfully), a green and grey tribal patterned sweater and tall boots that Bard recognized as a part of the Oberon costume – yes, Bard recognized those boots. He had made time to see every showing of A Midsummer Night’s Dream because for one he adored Shakespeare and theater, and for two he saw every production the theatre department did more than once…it wasn’t _solely_ because Thranduil played a prominent role in every one of them, but that was definitely a contributing factor (even though Thranduil probably had no idea Bard even existed). Bard never debated spending money to go see the productions because they were always spectacular…and because Thranduil was _such_ a gifted performer, and not bad to look at either.

This performance, even with it being Thranduil under the ambient lighting was…less than perfect. The rosiness that replaced his typical pallor, his weightless motions, his fluctuation of pitch, and the way he slurred his words through his giggling indicated that the great Thranduil was more than a little intoxicated. Bard had noticed in his representation as King Oberon, Thranduil was always very still with proper, direct movements, but Thranduil now was swaying his hips and flailing his arms fluidly like a blithe dancer would. He was also baring a bright smile and kept twirling a strand of hair around his finger.

“What thou seessst when thou dost WAKE, do it for thy _true love_ take!” Thranduil recited, dramatically pressing is hands to his chest. “Love and languish for his sake, be it ounce or CAT or BEAR, p-p _ard_ or boar with brist-tled haaair…in thy eye that shall appear, when thou wakest, it is thy DEAR! Wake when some _vile thing_ is… _near_.” Thranduil gave a curtsy and the audience in the room clapped and cheered and whistled wildly for him. Now that Bard wouldn’t be taking away from Thranduil’s moment, he crept further into the room and opened up his ladder as he muttered the following lines to himself very hushedly.

“Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood. And to speak troth, I have forgot our way.”

Creeping hadn’t done him much good because he was noticed straightaway – how could he not be? Ladders didn’t blend in very well.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just here to fix the lights for you.” Bard said digging through his bag for his flashlight. He turned it on and held it between his teeth as he climbed up and took off the first cover. Celeborn was nice enough to hand Bard what he needed from down below (probably at Galadriel’s suggestion). Thranduil went on with his drunken monologues and Bard rolled through all the lines by other characters that came in between in his head.

With the help of Celeborn, Bard was able to quickly replace the longs bulbs for both lights, put on the covers and voila. The lights were working again. The room cheered for him when light flooded the rest of the room and he just gave a curt nod and a wave to acknowledge them.

“Hey, aren’t you the dragonslayer?” Celeborn asked now that he got a good look at Bard and the entire room broke out into a racket. Random people were surrounding him and kept mentioning the word “dragonslayer” and Bard had no clue what that was even supposed to mean.

“I’m afraid I’m no dragonslayer – sorry all, but I’ve got to go now.” Bard said. He was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

“Of course you are!” Galadriel cut in. “I thought I recognized you from somewhere other than class. You’re Bard Bowman, the dragonslayer…you know, the first guy to beat the all famous Dragons from Smaug University in an archery tournament in a hundred years last year? You’re him, aren’t you? Your picture was in the school paper.”

“Oh – um, in that case, yes I am. I didn’t know I had a nickname.” Bard said in disbelief.

“Yeah, you’re a legacy!” Celeborn said patting him on the back and waved a red solo cup in front of his face. “Why don’t you stay and chill with us for a while?”

“Thank you, but I’ve got to get all this stuff back to maintenance before the building closes. Have a good night.” Bard said dismissing the invitation quickly and starting to pack up his bag and close his ladder.

“Why don’t you come back after?” Galadriel proposed. Crap. He wasn’t ready for that one.

“Yeah, why don’t you come back and hang with us, _dragonslayer_?” That voice. Oh god. Bard turned to see his suspicions as to who is was realized – it was Thranduil. Thranduil Oropherion was talking to him in the flesh and up very, very, _very_ close; he was _so_ close that Bard could smell the alcohol on Thranduil’s hot breath.

“I, uh…I’ve got to go.”

He panicked, grabbing his things and shuffling away as hurriedly as possible. He knew he was blushing like mad and just wanted to forget he’d ever even been there in the first place. Everything would be back to normal once he got back to his room. He was to the front door when he heard a voice beckoning him: “ _Heyyy_ , dragonslayer! Where are you going?”

It was Thranduil again. What was he doing, following him?

“Hi.” Bard replied awkwardly and flinched as Thranduil leaned in close to his face and smirked.

“That was some pretty good light fixing you did in there.”

“Um…thanks. You can just call me Bard, by the way. I don’t need any nicknames.”

“How about _cutie pie_?” Thranduil breathed and dragged his fingertip down Bard’s chest.

“N-No, just Bard’s good.” Bard stuttered and Thranduil chuckled deeply with a flip of his hair.

“I heard you in there, you know.”

“…excuse me?”

“I said _I heard you_.”

“No, I heard that, I just meant…never mind. Good job on the performances so far, by the way.”

“Oh, you SAW THEM?” Thranduil exclaimed loudly. “How nice! Thank you. Do you want a drink? I can go get you a drink.”

“No thanks, I really-”

“Oh, okay. Well…what was I saying?” Thranduil paused for a moment with his hazy eyes concentrated on a blank space on the wall as he tried to remember what he was saying previously. It was almost comical how drunk he was. “OH YEAH!” he announced and draped a lanky arm over Bard’s shoulder. “I said I heard you finish that first line I did in there. You’re a Shakespeare fan, huh?”

“Guilty.”

“That’s just _GREAT_! I love him too. I bet he was just a _really cool_ guy, very talented…why don’t you try out? We do a Shakespeare play _every year_.”

“I’m not really an actor.” Bard said with a shrug, noticing that Thranduil was still hanging on him.

“Oh, _pshhhh._ Matthew McConaughey isn’t really an actor either but he still gets awards and stuff.”

“So you’re telling me Matthew McConaughey _isn’t_ an actor?” Bard questioned raising a brow and Thranduil shook his head with his crown wavering slightly.

“I don’t really care for him, so…I don’t know. You should totally just… _stay here_ , and…just stay for a  while.”

“I’ve got to get going before the maintenance building closes for the night.”

“ _Whyyy_?” Thranduil full on whined and clutched Bard’s hand. Bard felt like his cheeks would burst into flame. This is not what he pictured Thranduil being like at all – not sober, anyway. “I want you to meet all my friends! Let me show off the dragonslayer!”

And with that, Bard was yanked away from the door and his ladder was forsaken. He still carried his duffle over his shoulder as Thranduil dragged him around forcefully up and down stairs and sometimes into the same room twice, carting him around and introducing him to strangers while playing with Bard's hair and patting his chest continuously…well, Thranduil’s parading Bard around couldn’t have been _that_ forceful. How could Bard say no to _Thranduil Oropherion_ , the guy he’d been admiring from afar from the first time he laid eyes on him? In the back of his mind Bard thought that come tomorrow morning, Thranduil wouldn’t remember any of this from the way he was acting, especially after picking up more drinks while carting Bard around Lorien house. Bard wasn’t sure if he was entirely okay with Thranduil having no memory of their shenanigans.

Bard tried to make the greetings as brief as possible, but that was a difficult task when Thranduil would stop in the middle of the hallway and forget what he was doing and who he was looking for. Bard tried to just tell Thranduil to go enjoy the party without him, but Thranduil came to the conclusion that he was done with the party.

“I’m. _Tired_.” Thranduil declared as they approached the front door again. “Will you walk me home?” Thranduil chimed as he linked arms with Bard and bent to rest his head in the crook of his neck.

“I guess I can do that.” Bard agreed.

Bard had to leave his gear on the steps outside to help Thranduil down the stairs. Thranduil was almost a foot taller than Bard which made maneuvering him challenging, but Bard was strong and managed to lean Thranduil against the maintenance van. Bard then went back up the steps, retrieved his belongings and turned back around to see Thranduil spinning around in the middle of the street.

“What are you doing?! Get out of the road!” Bard shouted and Thranduil just laughed at him. Bard lugged his things down the steps and then dropped them, running out into the road and pulling Thranduil back over to the van. “Stay _right there_.” Bard commanded.

“Yes, _daddy_.” Thranduil said and bit down on his lip. Bard swiftly turned away with an excited surge of electricity shooting down to his stomach – _that was the last thing he needed_.

Thranduil stayed with the van as Bard instructed and played with his hair and hummed to himself as Bard heaved the supplies in the back. Bard then took Thranduil gently by the arm and started leading him up the sidewalk.

“Isn’t it _so_ pretty out tonight? I wish the clouds would be gone so we could see more st-starsss,” Thranduil slurred as he tilted his head upward, marveling at the night sky above and leaning heavily on Bard.

“Careful, there.” Bard warned and wrapped his arm around Thranduil’s back to keep him more balanced.

“I’m a _king_ , you know.”

“I do know.”

“This s’is my crown.” Thranduil said pointing to Oberon’s leafy crown that he somehow managed to keep on his head the entire night. “I’m not allowed to take it off _ever_.”

“How will you sleep with that crown on your head?” Bard inquired, entertaining the drunken man’s ramblings.

“I CAN’T SLEEP!” Thranduil shouted, waving his arms and nearly falling over. The poor bug-eyed Bard caught him and Thranduil didn’t even seem to notice or care that he almost toppled onto the cement. “I have to sstay VIGILANT! I’M THE GODDAMN KING! NOW GET ME THAT CH-CHANGELING CHILD!”

“Well, a king needs his rest. He also needs to let his subjects sleep. Keep it down, your majesty.”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course…” Thranduil whispered.

“We’ll worry about your changeling boy later.”

Bard was in disbelief, flushed, annoyed and amused all at once – how was any of this _really_ happening right now? Was this all some kind of twisted dream of his? Maybe the character Puck had come to life, was moving mischievously around the world mortal kind once again and forced them into this odd scenario by some will of magic much like in the play…Bard was starting to seriously ponder this option, because the scenario he and Thranduil were caught in was definitely mixed-up enough to be the work of a fairy servant like Puck.

“What does that make you since I’m the king? You must be my knight in shining armor.”

“Er, not exactly. And there aren’t any knights in shining armor in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Bard felt like a serious dope for trying to reason with Thranduil on any matter when he was like this.

“But look, you brought me all the way back home to my castle!” Thranduil cheered and flung up his arms as they arrived at the towering, opulent Mirkwood house. Bard guided Thranduil up to the door and Thranduil pulled on it.

“Try using your key.” Bard said and Thranduil gave him a blank look. Oh no.

“ _Ohhh NO!_ My _keys!_ ” Thranduil whimpered and his hands flew over his eyes.

“What’s the matter? Did you leave them at Lorien? We can just-”

“No, I don’t know where they are!” Thranduil sobbed.

“Do you have a friend you can call on your cellphone that can let you in?” Thranduil felt around frantically in his pockets through the gushing tears spilling over his glittery face and his cries burst out even louder when he discovered his phone too was missing. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Bard said hushedly and rubbed Thranduil’s arm as he wiped his tears. “Do you remember any of your friends’ numbers? You can just use my phone.”

“I can’t remember.”

“Is there someone at Lorien who can help?”

“ _NO!_ ”

“Okay, okay…just think – where do you remember having your keys and your phone last? Wherever you left them they’re probably together in the same place.”

“I think it was in the dressing room in the theater,” Thranduil choked through his erratic breath. “D-Do you have a key to the theater or to my house?”

“No I don’t, but we can go over to the maintenance building and I can get the keys.” This must have eased Thranduil a little because he smiled.

Bard walked him all the way back to the van, seated him in the passenger seat and helped him buckle properly. This guy was the definition of a hot mess right now and Bard somehow ended up as his babysitter. Thranduil kept turning the volume on the radio up and down and switching stations endlessly the whole ride over to the maintenance building, and he was still doing it when Bard hopped out to go retrieve the keys, but when Bard pulled on the door it was locked and the lights were out.

“ _You’ve got to be kidding me_.” Bard hissed, but he took in a deep breath as he retreated to the van and prepared to give the bad news. “Well…the maintenance building is locked for the night.”

“WHAT? Don’t you have a _key_?!” Thranduil exclaimed.

“No, I don’t. I’m sorry; is there somewhere I can bring you where you can stay? I’d be more than happy to drive you there.”

“Somewhere else?...Mm, no I don’t think so.” Thranduil answered absently as he rubbed his eyes.

“Do you have a fr-”

“URGH this glitter is hurting my eyes!”

“You can wash it off as soon as I get you somewhere. Do you have a friend that you can stay with for the night? Someone at Lorien?”

“No, no…” Thranduil sighed and leaned his head back on the head rest. There was a silent pause between them as Bard tried to think of a solution and Thranduil was…doing whatever he was doing. “HEY!” Thranduil said suddenly and Bard jumped. “I can stay with _you_!”

“Thranduil, I don’t think-”

“ _Pleaaaaase_?” Thranduil whined as he bent over and let his hands fall on Bard’s chest. “Please, please, Bard? _Pleaaaaase_?”

“Okay.” Bard blurted and Thranduil laid a sloppy surprise kiss on his cheek.

“You’re the _best_ , dragonslayer! We’re going to have _so much fun_.” The blonde’s voice dropped into a creamy, seductive tone as he spoke and trailed his fingers down Bard’s chest and stomach, coming dangerously close to the hard on that Bard had been fighting on and off all night. Bard jumped and quickly put the car into drive, nudging Thranduil’s arm away from his sensitivities.

“O-ho-ho-kay, let’s go then!”

“WHOO, YEAH LET’S GO!” Thranduil cheered pumping his fist into the air and completely forgetting about his enticing seduction attempt. As the van started down the road and toward Dale, Thranduil raised his chin and flailed his hand onto the side of Bard’s head. “Do you amend it then; it lies s’in you… why should Titania cross _her Oberon_?” he declaimed as he stroked Bard’s hair. He dragged his fingers down Bard’s chest and rested his pale hand on his leg. “I do but _beg_ a little _changeling boy_ to be my henchman.”

With all his might, Bard ignored the hand ghosting over his leg teasingly and began: "Set your heart at rest: the fairy land buys not the child of me.” After a pause, Thranduil was still silent…waiting. “His mother was a votaress of my order: and, in the spiced Indian air, by night, full often hath she gossip'd by my side, and sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, marking the embarked traders on the flood, when we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive and grow big-bellied with the wanton wind; which she, with pretty and with swimming gait following—her womb then rich with my young squire — would imitate, and sail upon the land, to fetch me trifles, and return again, as from a voyage, rich with merchandise. But she, being mortal, of that boy did die; and for her sake do I rear up her boy, and for her sake I will not part with him.”

“…How long within this wood intend you stay?” Thranduil went on evenly.

“Perchance till after Theseus' wedding-day. If you will patiently dance in our round and see our moonlight revels, go with us; if not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts.”

“Let’s go get Starbucks.”

“Starbucks isn’t open this late.” Bard laughed and Thranduil groaned.

“Tomorrow?”

“We’ll see what tomorrow brings.”

Oddly enough, those were the last words exchanged between them before Bard parked as close to Dale building as he could get and started walking Thranduil in. His sudden silence was unsettling; maybe his fatigue was finally catching up with him.

Bard figured he was pretty smart for wanting to take the elevator instead of the stairs because getting Thranduil up those stairs was bound to be a mess, but Thranduil had broken his silence and refused to take the elevator up. Time was of the essence now because Bard got the itching feeling that Thranduil probably wasn’t feeling very well, given his now calm demeanor and his refusing to take the elevator – that, and Thranduil asking to be carried.

Thranduil was limper than Bard had expected and draped over his back like a toddler, so Bard just ended up lifting Thranduil onto his back and holding Thranduil’s legs closed around his waist. The blonde’s arms were loosely locked around Bard’s neck as they ascended. Bard was very strong, seeing as he was fit as could be, but he certainly broke a sweat carrying six feet and five inches of drunken man baby up three flights of stairs. Salvation was in sight.

Bard shuffled to his door, set Thranduil down and leaned him up against the wall as he dug for his room key in his pocket. His heart started pounding as he thought about how his roommate would react when he pulled Thranduil into their room with him. He peered in and was surprised to see no one there.

With Thranduil’s arm propped over Bard’s shoulder, the kind-hearted and still dumbfounded sophomore dragged the actor into his temporary crashing spot. Caught off his guard, Bard easily fell down onto his bed with a forceful push from Thranduil. The blonde’s weight came toppling down onto him and all the air was pushed out of his chest.

“Whoa, hey! This isn’t what I meant when I said you could stay here, Thranduil!” Bard said, but Thranduil had already snaked his arms around his neck.

“Who’sss _Thranduil_?” he asked, his heavily alcohol tainted breath beating down on Bard’s lips.

“ _You_ are and I’m Bard, remember?” Bard tried pushing Thranduil off, but he was practically dead weight.

“ _Nooo_ , silly.” Thranduil said with a low chuckle. He poked Bard’s nose and pulled down Bard’s lower lip. “You’re Queen Titania and I can be your _Bottom_.” The blonde bit down on his mischievous smile and rolled his hips forward, brushing their groins together in irresistible pleasure. Thranduil nuzzled himself down into the crook of Bard’s neck and whispered out a moan – but Bard could resist (god knows how). If anything were to happen between them, Bard would make sure it didn’t happen this way.

“Oh. God. No, no, no! How about we just go to sleep for right now, okay?..........Thranduil?” Thranduil had stopped grinding his hips into Bard and laid completely still, with the exception of his gently heaving chest. Bard craned his neck and saw Thranduil’s eyes had fallen shut and he was breathing very gently. “Asleep. Thank god.” He muttered.

Bard managed to slip out from under Thranduil, pull the covers over him and remove his crown which was delicately placed over the bed post. Bard was going to give Thranduil pajamas to wear, but he didn’t dare wake the blonde. They both needed rest.

Bard crept around quietly as he changed and prepared his books for morning, as not to wake Thranduil, but he must have been in a deep sleep if he just zonked out like that. He placed two buckets on either side of the bed in case Thranduil needed to throw up at any point. When he checked his phone, he was relieved to know that his roommate had gone off to spend the night with his partner. He didn’t want to sleep in his roommate’s bed (because that might be weird and unacceptable), so Bard just took a clean sheet from his closet, set an alarm, cozied himself in his beanbag chair and fell right to sleep.

When he was roused by his buzzing alarm the next morning, he sat up groggily and found not only that his back was incredibly sore, but also that the sound had woken Thranduil too. He started to raise himself very slowly with his palm pressed against his forehead, and then he sat upright very abruptly in a startled fashion. Bard remained utterly still, wondering what was zooming through Thranduil’s head. Did he remember anything that happened? Would he be mad? Grateful? Or would he just up and leave without a word?

They both blinked as their eyes met and Thranduil’s face was stark white – whether it was from embarrassment or sickness, Bard didn’t know.

“ _Oh god_ ,” Thranduil groaned, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“Bucket - next to you!” Bard said as he scrambled up from his tangled mess of a sheet, feeling like he should do _something_. Thranduil snatched the bucket from beside the bed, turned, leaned into it and made a barely audible gagging noise. With a short string of light coughs, the vomiting had apparently ceased very quickly. Thranduil’s head snapped up very precisely and he fixed his hair frantically and rose from the bed. “I need to go.”

Thranduil was suddenly marching out the door _with the bucket of vomit_ in his arms. What the heck was going on?

Bard quickly grabbed Oberon’s crown from his bed post and slid out into the hall to catch Thranduil before he got too far.

“Wait, wait! You need this!” Bard called.

Thranduil spun on his heel, walked promptly to Bard and took the crown.

“Yes. Thank you.” He said very sharply and returned to his speed walk down the hallway.

“Do you know how to get out of here?”

Thranduil never answered him and vanished. What a dramatic turn of events.

Bard was beginning to wonder if he had somehow dreamt the entire night. He went about his day like he normally would and attended his classes, but his head was swirling around all that he’d been wrapped up in last night and briefly this morning. The way Thranduil just stormed out was very off-putting – maybe he just needed to be somewhere.

He was moseying his way back to Dale after his classes were done for the day when yet another surprise struck him: a Facebook friend request from none other than Thranduil Oropherion.

“ _What_?” he questioned aloud in disbelief. He accepted the request right away and just a minute later his phone dinged with a message and a conversation ensued:

Thranduil Oropherion: Hey.

Bard Bowman: hi

Bard Bowman: how are you feeling?

Thranduil: I’m fine. Are you coming to the show tonight?

Bard Bowman: yes

Thranduil: Can you stick around after it’s over for a few minutes? I want to talk to you in person.

Bard Bowman: ok, sure. see you then – good luck!

Thranduil: Thanks. See you then.

Bard was intending on going to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream again that evening before Thranduil had asked if he was going, but of course now he had a much better reason for attending. He was very antsy the entire time with Thranduil _knowing_ he was there watching him strut around the stage. What on earth did Thranduil want to talk to him about? He was hoping dearly that there were no misunderstandings and that Thranduil hadn’t beckoned him there to lash out on him for inviting Thranduil to his room on false pretenses or something ridiculous and not true.

From the first moment Thranduil appeared on stage as the great fairy king Oberon, Bard’s breath hitched. The first line that Thranduil unfurled from his tongue and his perfectly pink lips was astounding, really. He was absolutely nothing like what he had shown Bard the night previous; he was elegant, upright, stone-faced, and his enrapturing voice was deep and lyrical. He emanated power and confidence each time he appeared on the stage.

Thranduil was a splendid work of art, like a masterpiece crafted by the Greek sculptor Pygmalion – but as the tale goes, Pygmalion fell in love with the beautiful woman he created. Surely if Pygmalion had ever crafted a fine creature like Thranduil, he would never let the rest of the world bask in his ethereal beauty, even during Thranduil’s crazed and drunken stupors. Pygmalion would cherish him deeply, and anyone lucky enough to be close to Thranduil and be beloved by him would do the same.

Bard enjoyed the performance by the entire cast thoroughly and stood with the rest of the audience to give them a well-deserved standing ovation at the end. He felt fluttery inside and his proud grin spread as Thranduil came forward to take a bow. Everyone went wild – Bard wondered how many of the people cheering him on were strangers who had just discovered his raw talent and how many were friends, family, and admirers. How many others were there just to watch him and be in the same room as him?

He suddenly felt very stupid both for feeling that twinge of jealousy twist in his heart and for being there at all. He was another hopeless admirer who happened to have one chance encounter with Thranduil Oropherion and nothing more. Once, that was all he ever hoped for. Now he was mad at himself for ever becoming Thranduil’s caretaker last night. At least without that meeting, Thranduil would remain a fantasy and only that and Bard wouldn’t have to face the disappointment of not being closer with Thranduil that plagued him in that very moment.

They didn’t even have to be together as partners; just friendship would suffice…never. They were too different. Thranduil was a wealthy, popular, talented, and _amazing_ social butterfly…Bard was a reclusive study bug that liked having his few friends and no parties. There was no way Bard could ever keep up with Thranduil’s buzzing life even if he were allowed to try.

He twisted the singular lily with a silver bow tied neatly around its stem in his hand nervously as he waited in the cluttered hall for Thranduil to appear. Where they were supposed to meet wasn’t made clear, but the hall was where everyone else was lingering to greet their loved ones and praise the actors and the production team. He wasn’t sure why he brought the flower either. It was customary to gift people flowers after a performance, right? Did that include people you hardly knew? It was meant to be more than just a congratulatory or flattering gift, but Bard wasn’t sure yet if he was going to reveal that when the time came.

The chatter in the hall became notably louder as Thranduil appeared. Everyone was stopping him to shake his hand, sputter out compliments and stare at his face up close. The only people that didn’t approach him were too awestruck and intimidated to dare get too close to him. That was understandable for more reasons than one: Thranduil was massively talented, beyond gorgeous, extremely tall, and the second costume he wore made him look even more foreign and daunting.

Bard thought his first costume suited Oberon well; Thranduil looked as if he truly belonged within the woodwork of a magical land, donned in twinkling green dressings with his leaf made cape and crown. He looked more so like some majestic creature in the way he moved and carried the white antlers on his head. This second costume Thranduil wore now was the wardrobe he closed the show in and was quite the drastic change to represent the other less malevolent side of the complex fairy king (in Bard’s opinion). The robes he wore now were hued deep shades of scarlet and crimson which made him look more porcelain than he already did. He still had brown eyeshadow flaring up from his eyes and gold glitter stuck to his skin and the white elk antlers were now attached to a crown of fully bloomed red roses.

Bard kept his gaze shyly away and stayed closely pinned to the wall, trying to stay out of everyone’s way as much as possible. Thranduil, however, had other plans. He parted right through the sea of adoring theater fans and plucked Bard right from the wall.

“Come on, let’s go outside.” He spoke. His hand was clamped on Bard’s elbow as they weaved through the crowd, being stopped nearly every five seconds so Thranduil could be showered with more praise. Thranduil bowed his head, expressed honest words of gratitude and then moved on to the next one and the next one until finally they were relieved by the refreshing outdoor air. Thranduil guided Bard away from the entrance as not to get stopped by more people.

“Man, they sure do love you.” Bard said flashing a coy grin and presenting the lily to Thranduil. “For you. Congratulations on another great show – well, great really isn’t a good word. It was better than great, really. All of them were.”

Thranduil took the lily gingerly and admired it closely. Bard hadn’t noticed until then that he was wearing eyelashes dusted with small rhinestones. His pretty lips formed a soft smile as he felt the ribbon between his fingers.

“All of them, hm?” he finally spoke and his natural voice was just as his Oberon voice was; strong, deep and highly alluring.

“Yeah, I’ve seen all of them so far…I picked the silver ribbon because it reminded me of you.” Bard admitted blindly.

“Thank you. This gift is lovely. It’s very thoughtful, but I wish it weren’t a flower.”

Bard’s expression sunk.

“Oh.” He said simply.

“Only because flowers die. I’d like to keep this well and alive forever. Lilies are my favorite. How did you know?” Wow. He really was a completely different person than the Thranduil Bard met last night. He spoke ever so eloquently. Bard felt like he’d melt into a puddle on the ground right there.

“Lucky guess. Lilies seem very befitting of you…so you wanted to talk to me about something?”

Bard sunk his hands in his pockets and his cheeks flushed as Thranduil’s dreamy eyes flickered up at him from beneath his lashes.

“I wanted to apologize to you in person for my behavior last night and this morning.” He stated very firmly. “I’ve also thoroughly washed your bucket and intend on returning it to you. If I broke anything, I will reimburse you with interest. I am utterly mortified by my actions – I’m sure I was a mess and I appreciate your tolerance and care of me.”

“I didn’t know if you’d recall anything that happened last night.” Bard laughed lightly.

“I do recall…some things…vaguely.” Thranduil admitted and cleared his throat.

“I’m just glad you feel better, and no you didn’t break anything. You found your phone and your keys, I’m assuming.”

“Yes…you seem so…nonchalant.” Thranduil said slowly, batting his eyelashes adorably with confusion threaded in his tone. He was obviously baffled by how calm Bard was being after everything Thranduil put him through. At least now Bard could be sure that he didn’t dream all of the night’s events happening, _unless_ Thranduil had the same dream!...Upon this thought, Bard decided he was getting _too_ wrapped up in the whimsical ploys from the play.

“You were a little clingy, but other than that you were an angel.”

“Mm, I think I remember some things that weren’t so…angelic, as you put it.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I _do_ , however, remember you saying you’d take me to Starbucks.” Thranduil said raising his eyebrows and baring a smirk. Bard ripped out a hardy laugh.

“That’s not _exactly_ how it happened...are you sure that we are awake? It seems to me that yet we sleep, we dream."

Thranduil's pretty lips curved into a smile at hearing the familiar phrase from the play.

“I say that this is most certainly reality that we're acting in on our own wills...unless we are under some kind of spell, of course."

"If that's the case, if you want and you would let me, I would love to take you to Starbucks."

"Any guy that carries me up three flights of stairs, deals with my crying _and_ can recite Shakespeare off the cuff is more than welcome to take me to Starbucks."

Thranduil was insistent that they went on their coffee date that night. Bard waited downstairs below the stage where the dressing rooms were so Thranduil could change out of his costume and accessories and remove his layers of makeup. He was internally _screaming_. He was taking _Thranduil Oropherion_ on a date, and it was all thanks to a man by the name of William Shakespeare.

 


End file.
